


At My Fingertips

by msraven



Series: Behind the Wall [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Episode: s01e04 Eye-Spy, Established Relationship, M/M, Spoilers, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trip down memory lane leads to some revelations Phil isn't prepared for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At My Fingertips

**Author's Note:**

> *whistles innocently*
> 
> I'm just having fun with this until it veers into an AU. :)

"Clint?" Phil calls out as the wall slides shut behind him. He walks through the empty living room and starts toward the kitchen, but changes direction at the sound of Clint's voice. 

"In the gym!"

Phil moves through the apartment toward the far corner that holds the gym, not bothering to hold back his automatic smile at the prospect of seeing Clint in a few moments

It still amazes Phil that Stark had spared no expense when he had renovated the building to include their hidden apartment. Clint and Phil's true living space takes up what should be three other apartments, with only Phil's registered residence maintaining the original square footage and floor plan as the apartments on the lower three floors of the building. The floors and walls have been reinforced and soundproofed to prevent eavesdropping and a separate elevator and stairwell installed to allow them private access to the roof and basement. The basement leads out to a tunnel that connects the building directly to Avengers Tower, complete with a small electric car to make the trip across town. All of it had been completed under the cover of post-Chitauri renovations and Phil has made point of not asking where the other access tunnels he's seen split off to – everyone has a right to their secrets. 

The apartment itself has an opulent master bedroom and bath, Clint's sprawling dream kitchen, a living room complete with a state-of-the-art entertainment system, a guest room, a home office, Natasha's room, and a large home gym. Walking through it now, Phil feels an overwhelming sense of _home_ and he acknowledges that it has much more to do with the man he's coming home to than the physical space itself.

"You're not going to believe who–" 

All of Phil's thoughts stutter to a halt at the sight which greets him. Clint, wearing nothing but a pair of gym shorts slung low on his hips, is doing pullups on the far side of the room. His skin glistens with sweat, all the glorious muscles of his back, shoulders, and arms bare to Phil's hungry gaze as Clint continues his exercise.

Phil walks across the room, entranced, and reaches up to trail his fingers across Clint's shoulders and then down the center of his back – the low hum of contained power tingling just beneath Phil's fingertips as their skin makes contact. Clint shivers once and stops, hanging from the bar for a moment before letting go and dropping his arms to his side. Phil leans forward to place a tender kiss on the top of Clint's shoulder as Clint turns his head toward him.

"Welcome home," Clint says with a warm smile.

Phil raises his eyes to meet Clint's, no longer surprised at how well the other man has always been able to read him.

"You're beautiful," Phil says in lieu of greeting.

Their bodies turn in sync toward each other and Phil wraps a hand around the back of Clint's neck to pull him in for a kiss, deeper and more passionate than their usual hello kisses. Clint's arms snake around Phil and underneath his jacket, the archer's strong hands splaying across Phil's back to press him closer. Phil isn't aware they're moving until his back hits the wall and he reaches up with his free hand to grip Clint's shoulder as their bodies slot together.

Clint breaks the kiss to mouth along Phil's jaw and neck, pulling impatiently at his tie and collar to expose the long column of Phil's throat. He gives up after a moment, shifting away slightly to go for Phil's belt instead. Phil does nothing to help or hinder Clint's attempts, too busy trailing his fingers along Clint's shoulders and back once again, savoring the still-new sensation as it intensifies when Phil flattens his entire palm against Clint's skin. Clint arches into the touch as he finally gets Phil's belt and pants undone.

"I'm really starting to like how that feels," Clint says, pushing Phil's pants and underwear down impatiently before starting to drop to his knees.

"No," Phil stops him. "I want to see you."

Clint's eyes widen in surprise, but he wastes no time in pushing his own shorts down so he can wrap a hand around them both. Phil's hips buck in response, their sensitivity and desire for each other's touch only heightened by this new connection they share. Clint groans and crushes their mouths together, tongues dancing as Phil reaches down to wrap his hand alongside Clint's.

Their joined hands begin to move in a timeless rhythm and Clint pulls back to look at Phil, cognizant of his earlier request. Phil watches as the now-familiar glow builds in Clint's eyes, the old fear now replaced with fondness, love, and the knowledge that his own eyes match his lover's. Clint looks back unflinchingly and Phil basks in the awe, acceptance, and fathomless love reflected in his gaze. 

Years of being together has taught them how to wring every ounce of pleasure from each other and it doesn't take long before they're gasping and shuddering through their climax. Clint braces a hand along the wall to keep them from collapsing in a heap as Phil buries his face in Clint's neck and goes boneless against him.

"Feeling sentimental?" Clint chuckles once they've caught their breaths. "We haven't done that in years."

Phil lifts his head and matches Clint's grin, remembering those first heady days when they'd finally moved from teammates and friends to lovers. Clint's beautiful blue-green eyes dance with mischief and Phil's eyes narrow in warning, unsurprised when Clint ignores him and wipes his hand clean on Phil's shirt. It is, after all, exactly what Clint had done the first time.

Clint finishes their trip down memory lane by giving Phil a wicked grin. "I like making you dirty."

Phil pulls Clint closer and kisses him through their combined laughter.

~^~

It's not until much later, after they've cleaned up and are cuddled together on the couch with steaming cups of coffee, that Clint reminds him of his aborted comment from earlier.

"What were you saying before we got distracted?" Clint asks.

"We found Akela Amador," Phil tells him. "It's why I'm back. Dropped her off at HQ."

"Oh. That's great," Clint says, sounding far from enthused. "I mean, I hope that's great. I know you never believed the rumors that she'd been killed or flipped sides."

Clint's words are supportive, but the stiffness in his limbs betrays his true feelings. Phil places his cup on the coffee table and turns to face Clint.

"Akela had been held captive for years and then controlled into performing robberies. She lost one of her eyes," Phil relays. He watches as Clint flinches at the last comment, his own feelings about eye injuries unquestionable. "Clint. What is it?"

"I'm glad you got her back," Clint responds, not quite meeting Phil's eyes. "I assume SHIELD will fix her eye and, uh, be understanding about her being controlled."

Phil shakes his head. "She was being threatened, not mind controlled by a crazy demigod. But Fury assures me that Akela will get a fair trial."

Clint skoffs and stares down at Phil's cup where it sits on the table. "Will she join your team after?"

"No," Phil answers and forces Clint to look at him with firm fingers on his chin. " _Clint_. What is it?"

"It's nothing," Clint responds and then rolls his eyes at Phil's raised eyebrow. "It's just… you know, it really is nothing. It doesn't matter anymore. Old history."

"Clint." Phil lets Clint drop his gaze, but his voice makes it clear that Phil isn't going to let this drop.

"I wouldn't change anything," Clint finally says. "Mel was a great S.O. and I think things would have been a little rough if you'd been my first handler, but I can't help that it brings back some bad memories. Akela... she… you chose her over me."

Phil startles in surprise as Clint finally looks at him. He sees flashes of accusation, hurt, and old insecurities in Clint's eyes before he blinks them quickly away. 

"You found and brought me in," Clint continues. "You had first right of refusal to take me on as a trainee, and when Fury gave you the option, you chose to keep Akela on your team instead. She had more potential. Agent May was the only one willing to pick up one of Coulson's scraps."

"You were never–" 

"But I was," Clint interrupts insistently. "At least that's how everyone saw me for a long time. I know you hate the SHIELD rumor mills, but you should try listening every now and then."

"I'm sorry," Phil apologizes and scrubs a hand over his face. "That explains so much about why you and May… Why didn't anyone ever tell me how much I was messing things up back then?"

"Because you were and _are_ still the best agent SHIELD has," Clint answers, placing a comforting hand on Phil's thigh. "Like I said, old history. We still got here and I wouldn't change anything even if I could."

Phil grips Clint's hand tightly, grateful for his understanding and support, while his mind reels over another unintended consequence of his past actions. 

"Akela had no more or less potential than you, but she was a different kind of challenge," Phil says, needing to explain. "Her potential was hampered by her resistance to working with a team and I was arrogant enough to believe I could train that out of her. As much as you and Natasha always insisted you worked better alone or as a pair, you always trusted _me_ enough to build a team around you. Akela never trusted me or her team and my failure to see that cost lives. Trying to redeem that failure almost cost the lives of my new team."

"Bullshit," Clint fires back. "I know you. Don't try to tell me you were doing anything but giving an agent a decent chance to come home. And now your team understands just how far you'll go to bring _them_ home if it comes to that."

Phil gives a rueful shake of his head. "May didn't agree with my call."

"Mel probably still thinks she needs to protect you from yourself," Clint responds and leans forward to cup a hand against Phil's cheek. "I know better than to question your loyalty and as much as it hurt at the time, I do understand why you felt like you couldn't abandon Akela. We'll make sure she gets a fair trial."

"I'm not asking you to–" 

"Yes you are," Clint interrupts again and smirks. "I know you, remember?"

Phil covers Clint's hand with his own and leans into his touch – the hum between them now soft and comforting. "You do," he agrees. "Better than I often know myself. I am sorry for hurting you back then."

"You didn't know," Clint shrugs, dropping their hands to settle them on Phil's lap, "and you've more than made up for it since. I guess I just wasn't expecting that name to suddenly come up."

"So much for reliving old, happy memories," Phil says wryly.

"I could run down to the alley and let you shoot me again," Clint suggests.

"Not funny."

Clint laughs, all of the earlier hurt gone in an instant. "Okay, then. How about reliving that op in Louisiana?"

"Louisiana?" Phil's brow furrows in thought for a second before the memory surfaces. "You mean the never-ending, mind-numbing op from hell? The bakery?"

The Louisiana op had been an extended surveillance of a suspected gun runner. Their cover had been running a bakery/coffee shop, with Phil running the register while Clint baked, Maria served, and Jasper made coffee. Phil had spent the entire time struggling to maintain control of his growing attraction to Clint. He'd also gained over five pounds thanks to all of Clint's delicious breads and pastries.

"It wasn't all bad," Clint grins. "You got to ogle my arms for three weeks. All those heavy trays to be lifted and dough to be kneaded and rolled."

"I knew you were doing all of that on purpose," Phil says fondly, not bothering to deny the ogling. "You walked around barely dressed the whole time."

"The ovens were hot," Clint shrugs. "After that op, I thought for sure you were straight. I got both Jasper and Maria to hit on me, but not stoic Agent Coulson."

"You could have gotten a rock to hit on you during that op," Phil mutters into his coffee. "So what did you want to relive? The boredom, oppressive humidity, or sexual frustration?"

Clint stands with a smirk, pulling off his light sweater and revealing the sleeveless shirt underneath. "I thought you could watch me bake some bread for dinner."

Clint turns and walks toward the kitchen, putting an exaggerated sway in his hips and throwing a smoldering look over his shoulder. Phil scrambles off the couch to follow, intent on doing more than ogling this time around. 

_fin_


End file.
